


but how could they ever call this sin

by uptillthree



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Romance, literally just a nightly phone call between nicky and erik, so now ive been churning out fics like the devil to Cope, sorry i read the whole aftg series in a week ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 23:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11345163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptillthree/pseuds/uptillthree
Summary: On Nicky’s phone, Erik has sent:niki i miss you please call me!and Nicky buries his head between his knees and grins. A minute passes and Erik follows it up withPLEAAAAASEE.Nicky chokes on his laughter. Kevin gives him another strange look.“Erik is very cute when he’s drunk,” Nicky feels obligated to announce, but he leaves when Aaron flicks his eraser at him.





	but how could they ever call this sin

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be some sort of angsty but happy fic about nicky and his entire backstory, but apparently i am incapable of writing too much about dark gritty things. also i have never been sadder about not being able to speak german, because i wanted there to be german phrases and dialogues but i didn't trust myself to make it authentic enough seeing as i don't speak the language myself. anyway give me & nicky hemmick some love

**erik:** r u awake

 _you:_ yeah?? it’s only 7pm here bb :))

 **erik:** mmmmm ok

 **erik:** it’s 1 am here

 **erik:** is it 1a m there too??

 **erik:** wait

 _you:_ oh my god. are you drunk

 **erik:** i MAY be a little bit drunk

 _you:_ how dare u get drunk without me!!!

 **erik:** its not my fault

 **erik:** sofi invited me  & u KNOW shes going thru a breakup

 **erik:** u cant just turn down drinks w someone going thru a BREAKUP niki. its not the german way

 **erik:** i mean okay i MIGHT have been SUPPOSED to look after her but then i ended up gettig too drunk to do that instead??????

Nicky can’t help it; he laughs— actually fucking outright _giggles,_ right there on the couch of their dorm, and Kevin looks at him like he’s grown another head. Aaron just scowls.

“Go sext your boyfriend somewhere else,” he snaps, not even looking up from his homework. “You two are gross.”

On his phone, Erik has sent: _niki i miss you please call me !!_ and Nicky buries his head between his knees and grins. A minute passes and Erik follows it up with _PLEAAAAASEE._ Nicky chokes on his laughter. Kevin gives him another strange look.

“Erik is very cute when he’s drunk,” Nicky feels obligated to announce, but he leaves when Aaron flicks his eraser at him.

 

 

When he gets down to the lounge, the only one there is Allison, looking bored and pretty in front of her laptop and textbooks. “Lonely night?”

Allison scowls. “Renee’s attending Sunday Church.”

“Oh,” Nicky says. He hasn’t even realized today was a Sunday. Nicky isn’t a very good Christian. Anymore. “I haven’t gone to Mass in like… months. Maybe more than a year now, actually, I… I dunno. Is that bad?”

Allison raises an eyebrow and points at herself. “Atheist, remember?”

“Right.” Nicky rolls his eyes. “Couldn’t care less, believes in aliens instead, all that stuff. I’ll be out back.” His phone is buzzing.

“You don’t believe in aliens?” Allison yells after him, only half-joking. “Even Renee believes in aliens!”

 

 

It’s always easier to breathe outside, in the cool evening air. When it’s cold enough, Nicky sometimes pretends he’s back in Stuttgart, in Erik’s family’s back garden with the flowers overgrown and Nicky’s chin on Erik’s shoulder and Erik’s arm around Nicky’s shoulder and thinking, for the first time, _oh._

_This is what it’s like to be myself._

But he’s been with the Foxes long enough that the Tower feels like home, too. He hasn’t pretended to be anywhere else in a long time.

(Here is the problem: When Nicky is in America he is homesick for Erik, and when Nicky is in Germany he is homesick for home— wherever that is.)

“Hello,” Erik says into his ear. To his credit, he sounds almost sober. Nicky imagines him lying spread-eagled in his bedroom, phone leaning against his ear, Nicky’s voice on loudspeaker at full volume all the way in Germany, and he smiles. “Sorry I missed our call earlier.”

Nicky laughs. “Busy getting drunk?”

“Oh, very. I think Sofi’s getting better at least. Didn’t yammer on about her ex even once on the ride back. Progress, Nicky!”

“Uh-huh. Baby steps.”

 _"Exactly._ So. Anyway. How has your day been?”

Letting out a happy sigh, Nicky sinks down onto one of the benches. It’s nice; this ease of routine, the familiarity of these nightly phone calls— they’re nice. Nicky lets himself ramble on about his day for as long as he likes, content to have Erik half-listen.

Well, mostly. If Erik starts snoring into the phone Nicky _will_ hang up on him, but not before wishing him a good night.

The season’s over, so Dan, Neil, Kevin, and Wymack don’t have any reason to run them into the ground too hard. Of course, there’s always the freshmen, who are difficult even on a good day, but Neil’s scored ten more goals in the season than Jack has, which is apparently enough to cow him at least a little. Even Aaron and Andrew have settled into a shaky understanding, after the trial and the still-ongoing sessions with Betsy.

So, objectively, Nicky thinks, this is one of the best years of his life.

 _(One_ of the best, not actually _the_ best, because that would be the year in Germany with Erik. But even that was a rough one, because the first half of that year was an ugly mess of self-hatred and anger and trying to push Erik away and still, _still,_ pining after him.)

This year, though. This year, Aaron’s trial is finally over and done with; Neil’s entire mess with his family is over and done with; Kevin’s problems with Riko are over and done with— Drake Spear is dead. And Andrew has Neil, and Aaron has Katelyn.

His family (his team and Erik, not his biological family) is… very happy, these days. Content, at the very least.

It’s enough.

(His parents haven’t spoken with him apart from one perfunctory greeting at Christmas, but as long as Nicky doesn't think too hard about them— he’ll be fine.)

“Seems like you’re finally settling in there,” Erik says, and Nicky realizes he’s fallen quiet for a while.

“Settling in? I’ve been attending Palmetto for like, three years now, Erik.”

“Yes, but I meant, no more drama for you to worry about.” There’s a noise that sounds like Erik is sitting up, picking up the phone, and shaking himself a little more awake. “It’s all— settled _down!_ That’s the phrase. All the bad, terrible drama has settled down for you and your team.”

“Oh, well— yeah, I guess. It’s good.”

“Mm. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Nicky says, genuine. “But, y’know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Oh, shut up. I’ve been thinking, maybe I could transfer again? There, for next year? What’d you think?”

Nicky’s aware that past two in the morning probably isn’t the right time for Erik to talk about this, but hey, he’s nothing if not surprising. And really, with the timezones they have, there is never going to be a good time.

Still, he doesn’t expect Erik to be so shocked. “What? _Why?”_

(Here is the problem: Nicky Hemmick falls in love deep and hard and all at once.)

“Well—” Nicky isn’t usually left flailing anymore when it comes to Erik. It stings a little. “That was our deal, right? I only left because Aaron and Andrew needed help. And they’re doing well now, they really are. So…”

“But Nicky,” Erik says gently, “you sound like you’re happy there.”

“Oh.” Nicky’s breath leaves him in a rush. Abruptly, selfishly, he thinks: _Erik is the best thing I will ever have in my life._ Some tiny, clingy, possessive part of Nicky wants Erik to _miss_ him. (Which is mean, because Nicky has been missing Erik ever since he left him, and, well. Not something he would wish on anyone.) “I am. But, just… I’d be happier with you?”

“Nicky Hemmick! I could wait eternity for you if you needed me to. But don’t you think your team will need you, next year?”

Nicky thinks about it. The upperclassmen would be leaving, but Neil had Andrew, and Andrew had Neil. Aaron had Katelyn. Kevin, as always, had Exy. The freshies could take care of themselves.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” he says.

 _"Nicky,”_ Erik says, in the sternest tone a drunk man could muster. “You _like_ it at Palmetto. You _love_ your team. I watch your games, I _know_ your team depends on you. You like Exy, you love your cousins, you love Columbia, you—”

“Jeez, alright, alright—”

“You don’t have to choose between me and your team all the time. I’ll still be here when you come back to me.”

Nicky shuts his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall, a lump rising in his throat. “Fuck’s sake, Erik, you can’t just _say_ things like that.”

Erik laughs dryly. “Well?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I’ll stay at Palmetto.” Nicky waits for Erik’s pleased hum, then abruptly redirects. “But hey, enough about that, how’ve _you_ been?”

(It’s a thing they have, checking in on each other nightly.)

Nicky listens carefully, gaze fixed up at the full, full moon, as Erik talks about his finals (they’d gone well enough, but Erik was still anxious) and his work (his boss had liked his outputs, Erik wanted to impress him so bad) and his projects (Erik did art on the side, and yes, Nicky has fallen in love with an artist, because _of course)._

It’s weird, realizing you were actually happy.

“You still there?” Erik asks.

“Always.” Nicky says, “I don’t want to die,” and what he means is _I’m glad I’m alive._

That slips out before he can stop himself; he’s aware that he sounds happy and maybe a little surprised, not afraid or sad at all, but— still. “Sorry,” he adds quickly. “That came out wrong—”

But Erik knows him well enough to understand. “That’s good.” Nicky can imagine him eyes closed, smiling softly into his phone, lips curled up. “Because I _definitely_ don’t want you to die, love.”

Nicky laughs, and if Erik hears how shaky it is he’s too kind to comment. “Erik, _Erik,_ oh my God. Erik, I am tired from, from a long day of practice and classes and my _goddamn_  homework, and you’re drunk and, like, four thousand miles away, you can’t just drop ‘love’ on me like that all casual and shit—”

Erik chuckles, soft and sweet and low in his throat (and for all Erik’s four thousand miles away, the sound of it still sends a shiver down Nicky’s spine). “I’ll keep calling you that, then. So you can get used to it. Love.”

“Oh— trust me, I could get used to it.” Nicky bites the inside of his cheek hard. “Love.”

 

 

(“After the trial,” Erik starts. “After the trial, I never got the nerve to ask, but I’m drunk enough now, so—” A raspy laugh. Nicky reminds himself to remind Erik to drink water before they go to sleep. “Did you ever talk to your parents?”

Very carefully, very evenly, with not a quake in his breath, Nicky says, “I don’t think I’m gonna be talking to my parents in a long time, babe.”

Objectively, Nicky thinks, this is only one good day, one good week, one good month. There is no anxiety to make his hands shake and there are no nightmares to make him fear sleep and there is no giant wall of numbness sitting in his chest and there are no bible verses jumping around in his head. That’s enough, normally. But there is also Erik Klose and nightly phone calls, and so it is much, much more than enough.)

 

 

 **erik:** sorry i fell asleep again didnt i

 **erik:** goodnight niki

 **erik:** i love you

 _you:_ i love u

 _you:_ jinx

 


End file.
